Danielle Lori Quotes

I asked him what moya zvezdochka meant. He said it meant, my little star.

I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.” I swallowed. “And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.

When you’re obsessed with something for so long and finally obtain it? It feels like coming home to God. And nobody gives up their fucking spot in Heaven.

There are three sides to every story. Mine, yours and the truth.” —Joe Massino

I hated when someone told me to smile, as if a smile of mine belonged to them and not to me.

The moonlight loved her. But not as much as my shadows.

He was comfort, security, and need, all in one. It had a name. Home.

Haven’t you heard? Love is an obsession. Some would even say . . . the maddest obsession.

True love stories never have endings.

I said I’ll never hurt you, Elena, but if I find out you’ve touched another man, there is nothing in this world that could save him.

Would you visit my grave if I died?” His eyes grew dark. “I’d die before you were ever in a grave, malyshka.” I loved his possessive side. And I loved his dark side, too.

That’s not a good enough reason for me to marry you, Christian.” “Fine.” He shook his head, his eyes flashing with darkness. “How about because I love you, Gianna? Because I think I have since the moment I saw you? Because if you weren’t in this world anymore, I would find a way to take myself out of it?

I can’t imagine a world where you and all your fucking yellow doesn’t exist. So if you die, you’ll take me with you.

Go to hell, Allister.” “Been there, Russo, and I’m not impressed.

There are plenty of women who could make you happier, Christian.” “You’re the only one I want.

What do you want from me, Christian? He turned to me, eyes dark. “Everything.

Why are you staring at me?” One heartbeat. Two. His voice was rough and his gaze was steady when he said, “Maybe I want to.

I would make this girl want me, need me, love me, because fuck if I was going it alone.

There’s nowhere you could go that I couldn’t find you.

What do I taste like?” His eyes drifted back up to mine. They were so deep and serious they held me captive. His next two words tugged at my heart, even though I didn’t know the meaning. “Kak moya.

What if someone arrests me while you’re in the bathroom?” “I’d bail you out.” “If you couldn’t?” “I’d be locked up beside you.

I’m going to die,” I choked out, not able to drag a deep enough breath into my lungs. “Never, malyshka.” It was soft and vehement. “Come here.

He looked at the dessert in my hands as though he’d never tried sugar before. He nodded toward it. “Chocolate?” “Arsenic.” “My favorite.

In this world, things weren’t black and white. I preferred yellow anyway.

Without hope, there’s nothing to lose. With it, we’re nothing but dominos waiting to fall.

Ya lyublyu tebya. Tak sil’no chto ne mogu dumat’ kogda ty daleko ot menya.” I love you. So much I can’t think when you’re away from me.

I breathed against his lips, “Tell me you love me again.” “I love you, malyshka.” “I love you, too, you know?” He stilled, and then a rough sound rumbled in his chest. He lifted me so my eyes were level with his, brushed his lips across mine, and said in a deep, almost apologetic rasp, “I’m never letting you go now.

You pull a trigger on me, and I can’t even leave you out in the cold for fifteen fucking minutes. So you tell me, Mila, who cares more here?

I wanted to be the best thing he’d ever had. To make him burn as much as he made me. I wanted him to want only me with a raw ache.

How could I say every strand was mine any clearer than washing it every goddamn night?

You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.” —Albert Einstein

Moy kotyonok.” I ran a thumb across her parted lips. “I told you this city would eat you alive.” I just didn’t tell her I owned Moscow and everything in it.

Elena Abelli was my vice, and fuck if I’d let it kill me.

How are you going to explain why you’re with me?” You’re mine. And I go where you go.

Because you’re so sweet you fucking glow.” His eyes darkened. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take that light from you.

Say something in Russian.” “Ty samaya krasivaya zhenshchina kotoruyu ya kogda-libo videl.” “What did you say?” “You’re annoying.

How about because I love you, Gianna? Because I think I have since the moment I saw you? Because if you weren’t in this world anymore, I would find a way to take myself out of it?

Look at me, Gianna.” I did. “We have a saying in Russia. S volkámi zhit’, po-vólch’i vyt’. Say it.” I butchered it. A corner of his lips lifted, but he walked me through it until it sounded somewhat intelligible. “It means, to live with wolves, you have to howl like a wolf.

Then let me make it clear for you,” he said, the shadows in his eyes flashing. “You would survive without me. You would move on.” His tone roughened. “I can’t imagine a world where you and all your fucking yellow doesn’t exist. So if you die, you’ll take me with you. Your sacrifice would mean nothing, kotyonok. NOTHING.

I wanted to fuck her and ruin her for anyone else. I wanted to crush her wings and then put them back together again so she’d become dependent on me. I wanted her to need me. That dark, possessive, and dangerous feeling crawled through me every time she crossed my path. Elena Abelli was my vice, and fuck if I’d let it kill me.

Heavy breaths and Russian words. Stars on his shoulders. Stars in my eyes.

I swallowed. “I don’t want to do this if there are going to be other women, Nico. I can’t.” He watched me for two tense seconds. “You’re enough for me.

I knew then I’d follow this man to the fiery gates of hell if he just held my hand.

You don’t know,” he growled. “I can’t stay away from you for more than a fucking day and you can run off without a second thought.” I shook my head, but his grip slid to my chin and stopped me. “You. Don’t. Know.

You can only sink or swim. You can’t swim in the underworld, but I’d always heard drowning was the best way to go.

This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.

You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars. -Gary Allan

Handsome in the way rough palms muffle screams, the way people bow to kings, and most of all . . . the way an angel falls from grace.

For the first time in my life, I felt free to be me. To curse if I wanted, to keep my smiles for who deserved them, to be bad at something, to fall in love. Nico didn’t treat me like glass. He shattered the reflection of an empty life staring back at me. He taught me how to soar.

I’ve thought about you so much you’re mine now.” It was a growl that lowered into a threat. “You’re lucky you didn’t let him touch you, Gianna, because I really don’t like it when people touch my things.

Whiskey and flame. Sleepless nights. Tattooed skin, white t-shirts, and rough hands. Love and lust and happiness. He was everything.

Why do you kiss me?” I sighed into his mouth when he kissed me with a sweet pull. “Because you’re the only woman who’s ever tempted me.” His lips brushed mine. “Because you love it.” The last one was soft, with a possessive bite. “Because every part of you is mine.

What do you mean, like do I carry a membership card that says 'Mafia' on it?

Moya. Vse moya.” Mine. All mine. Inked fingers braced on the wall beside my own. Suds and skin and a raven called Nevermore.

But the truth was, I didn’t think there was another person in this world who could make me feel safer.

You’re not afraid of me.” We were so close his cheek brushed my tear-streaked one when he rasped, “And, baby, I’m worse than the dark.

Do you eat?” He raised a brow, consuming that glass of green yuck in one drink. “Like, solids? Or do you blend all the children’s souls beforehand?

Maybe my roots were too deep, or maybe love gave a woman a reason to let her dark colors shine, because I suddenly knew I would lie, cheat, and steal for this man. I would burn the world for him. He was King of the Cosa Nostra. And he was all mine.

We do not remember days, we remember moments.” —Cesare Pavese

I don’t need to keep you a secret, Elena,” he said, going to tend to his pan on the stove. “I just don’t have the patience to listen to what people think I should do with what’s mine.” Mine.

D’yavol may have stolen my breath. But I gave him my heart.

Sometimes it felt like you needed to be the worst you could be to survive in this world.

Hit a woman in front of me and you won’t be alive to do it again,” Nico growled.

Me: I’m sorry, who is this? Christian: Funny. Me: Todd? Christian: I’m going to spank your ass. Me: Promise?

She glanced up at me. Her eyes were a window to her soul. I suddenly knew, if I ever died, those eyes would have something to do with it. Somehow, it sounded acceptable to me.

Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” —Marilyn Monroe

Voy kak volk, malyshka.” Howl like a wolf. Her soft eyes flicked to me. They burned a small hole in my chest. “Voy kak volk,” she whispered. She’d said it right. And I suddenly knew I was going to keep her.

He ran his thumb across my lips. “Ty byla sozdana dlya menya.” You were made for me. I believed it with everything in me. “Dazhe ocean ne mog razdelit’ nas,” I breathed beneath the possessive pressure of his thumb on my lips. Even the sea couldn’t keep us apart. He smiled. “Not even hell, kotyonok.

It’s called Stockholm syndrome. What’s your excuse? Mobster Decency Disorder?

You’ve got to learn how to howl, malyshka. To tell your demons to fuck off. We all know you have it in you; you tell me to enough. And unlike your demons”—his voice darkened—“I can actually bite you.

The moonlight loved her. But not as much as my shadows. “Ti slishkom ideal’naya chto bi byt’ nastoyashchey.

A woman is like a tea bag - you can´t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. -Eleanor Roosevelt

She was mine. And I’d kill anyone who told me otherwise.

My breathing was erratic as he growled in my ear, “You’re so goddamn hot it pisses me off.” And then he nipped my neck, hard.

It means, like mine.

Ronan . . . did Moscow get an Eiffel Tower of its own recently?” “I would never allow that kind of romantic tourism in my city.

For thinking I’m a psychopath, you don’t seem to fear being alone with me.” “I can scream. Loudly.” He glanced at me, like my words had an entirely different meaning— like he might like to hear me scream. My breathing became shallow.

A darkly amused noise came from him. “I was going to give it to you nice and easy, malyshka.” His lips trailed down my neck, voice nothing but a rumble. “Now, I’m going to make you scream.

I wasn’t usually a betting girl, but I would put all of my papà’s ill-gotten gains on the idea that this man fucked just like he drove. With complete control and confidence.

You blushed for him,” he growled. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Gianna. You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.

Why are you such a hippie?” “Why are you such a mobster?

Ronan tipped my chin to meet his eyes, brushing away the tear with a thumb. “Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.

I was a moth moving toward the flame, until I stood close enough for my wings to ignite.

Burn that shirt.” He then left without another word. I glanced down at my pink Yankees t-shirt. I guessed Nico was a Red Sox fan. We really wouldn’t work out now.

Karma could have given me something easier to deal with—like an impending atom bomb or a nuclear disaster. But no, the comeuppance karma had dealt me was feelings. What a cunt.

She stared out the window and stayed silent on the way to her papà’s house. When this was over, I was going to force her to talk to me for two hours straight before she got her orgasm.

Every savage can dance.” —Jane Austen

Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.” —John Webster

You’re no longer a virgin. I had the proof of that all over my cock.” Who said romance was dead?

The look grabbed hold and hung on. It wasn’t just ice anymore; it was late nights, rough hands, Russian words, and heavy hearts

All along, this man had been on the other side of the Atlantic. And maybe . . . just maybe, my soul always knew.

My heart would never be his. It was the one thing in my life that was mine, and I would never sign it over.

I only spoke Italian when I wanted to curse. I hardly ever swore, except for damn, hell, and maybe ass with a hole on the end now that I’d met Nicolas.

Truthfully, I was pretty sure I was obsessed, and I didn’t give a single fuck about it anymore. I just wanted to keep feeding it. Fucking her, kissing her, eating her out, over and over, until I was dead. The idea that I couldn’t made me feel sick, like I was catching a bad case of the flu or something.

I choked on my fury. “I hate you.” “I think about you.” Those four rough words filled the air between us, settling to the floor with a stillness that rocked me to my core. My blood cooled as silence came out to touch me with cold fingers. I stared, eyes wide. He watched my expression, bitter amusement passing through his gaze. “There’s your fucking secret.

You feel pretty clingy right now, kotyonok.” The words were rough and tired and so very sexy. “You’re the one holding me tighter than your favorite stuffed animal,” I returned. “I don’t have favorites.” A lazy hint of humor touched the words. “They all matter to me.

Aren’t you going to say it too?” “Nyet.” The reply was so cold, its ice burned the backs of my eyes, sending a single tear down my cheek. It wasn’t until he watched it fall that I noticed the tightness in his shoulders; the turmoil he hid so well behind Giovanni. A rough thumb wiped the tear away. “Ya ne govoryu togo, chego ne imeyu v vidu.

His lips pressed against my ear. “You want to know a secret?” I shivered at the deep voice, but I didn’t answer because I was still trying to figure out how to breathe with him inside me. “I’ve never fucked a woman without a condom.” He nuzzled my neck. His voice was warm and smooth, but his teeth were clenched. “And I’m afraid you’ve just created a monster.

Andromeda.” Allister moved closer. “An autumn constellation, forty-four light-years away.” His steps were smooth and indifferent, but his voice was dry, as though he found my panic attack positively boring. His attitude brought a small rush of annoyance in, but it was suddenly swayed as my lungs contracted and wouldn’t release. I couldn’t keep a strangled gasp from escaping. “Look up.” It was an order, carrying a harsh edge. With no fight in me, I complied and tilted my head. Tears blurred my vision. Stars swam together and sparkled like diamonds. I was glad they weren’t. Humans would find a way to pluck them from the sky. “Andromeda is the dim, fuzzy star to the right. Find it.” My eyes searched it out. The stars weren’t often easy to see, hidden behind smog and the glow of city lights, but sometimes, on a lucky night like tonight, pollution cleared and they became visible. I found the star and focused on it. “Do you know her story?” he asked, his voice close behind me. A cold wind touched my cheeks, and I inhaled slowly. “Answer me.” “No,” I gritted. “Andromeda was boasted to be one of the most beautiful goddesses.” He moved closer, so close his jacket brushed my bare arm. His hands were in his pockets and his gaze was on the sky. “She was sacrificed for her beauty, tied to a rock by the sea.” I imagined her, a red-haired goddess with a heart of steel chained to a rock. The question bubbled up from the depths of me. “Did she survive?” His gaze fell to me. Down the tear tracks to the blood on my bottom lip. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and he looked away. “She did.

Nyet. I can’t say this in English.” His gaze flickered with conflict, like this wasn’t easy for him to vocalize. “Say what?” The fire, the turmoil, the truth in his eyes—it told me everything, and my heart floated in my chest. I ran my thumb across the scar on his bottom lip. “Ya lyublyu tebya . . . Those words?” Then I realized he’d probably never said them. I’d even bet he’d never heard them either. The knowledge constricted my chest. “Ya lyublyu tebya,” I said softly. “So much.” His grip on my throat tightened possessively while my caress across his lips grew softer. I didn’t need the words from him. I didn’t want to make him feel as if he had to say something he wasn’t comfortable with. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to—” “Fuck, woman.” He pulled me in to kiss me deeply—just to shut me up, I think. Still, I sighed into his mouth, heat washing to my toes. I went in for more, but he pulled back and skimmed his lips across mine. “Ya lyublyu tebya. Tak sil’no chto ne mogu dumat’ kogda ty daleko ot menya.” I love you. So much I can’t think when you’re away from me.